Domestic
by Mostly Harmless III
Summary: Squall and Laguna in a steamy romance for the ages. This chapter: Squall isn't home when Laguna is feeling a little frisky. What happens when Squall finally makes it home? INCEST, PWP, OOC, AU.
1. Suds

Domestic: Suds

FF8

By Mostly Harmless

Doing the dishes and scratching an itch.

Plot what plot to the utmost extreme. Incest. AU. Naughty, adult language. Written in one hour and not beta-read. Let me know if you're looking for a job to do.

This is part of a storyline that I've been thinking about for a long time. I don't know if I'll ever write the actual story, but the smut certainly demands my attention...

* * *

Suds

* * *

Washing dishes was a chore, but not the worst one. If he kept up with it, it was only ten minutes of his day. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn't too long. 

The water was hot and his skin had turned a little red. Soap bubbles clung to his forearms and the steam was making sweat drip slowly down his face. He swiped the yellow and green sponge over the plate in a wide circle until he heard a tell-tale squeak, smiled, and then set it into the dish rack to be rinsed later.

He was so engrossed in the job that he almost dropped the next plate when a pair of hands settled onto his hips and the heavy swell of a hard cock incased in denim settled against his ass. He took a deep breath to calm himself from the shock, smiled again and considered how the night would unfold. All evidence suggested that Squall was horny.

"Want to go upstairs?" he asked, preparing to set everything down and finish it later. This felt pretty urgent and it had been a while. With work and responsibilities, sex had become one of those things they had to plan for. A spontaneous, wild fuck like this was looking to be was a rare and valuable thing. Dishes could bloody well wait.

Or so he thought.

He almost cried out in protest when Squall answered in the negative against his ear. "No, keep doing exactly what you're doing." _Almost, _because Squall's hands were slowing tugging at his belt buckle from behind. As if he'd had more practice at it than other men his age—which was probably the case now that Laguna thought about it—his pants were loose and down less than a minute later. "Step out," Squall commanded.

Still holding a plate in one hand and a sponge in the other, Laguna obeyed. Anticipation almost made him forget what he was supposed to be doing. He gave a distracted scrub at the plate, heart already thundering. What was Squall up—

The answer was a hot, hard, slick cock suddenly settling in along the crack of his ass. His son had stripped in record time. "Squall!" he shouted and really did have to set the plate down.

"Spread your legs."

Laguna did and the cock slid nicely between them, the tip coming to rest against his balls, which felt heavy and tender as his own sex was filling and lifting towards his belly. He couldn't help himself when he leaned forward and pushed his hips back. It exposed him more fully, presenting Squall, he was sure, with a nice target.

Squall shifted again and Laguna felt a tiny trickle of the oil Squall had slicked himself with streaming down the inside of his thighs. It made him clench the sponge in his hand too tightly and suds splushed out onto his hand. Hyne he wanted this.

The cock settled more firmly against his body and he wished it were inside him instead, but Squall had other plants. "Close your legs," Squall suddenly commanded. And sadly, disappointedly, Laguna understood.

Carefully, he clamped his legs back together, squeezing the shaft between them. He didn't know if it was too tight—knew it wasn't as tight as _other_ places could be—or not tight enough.

He heard Squall sigh and knew that it didn't really matter what he thought. It was apparently good for Squall. That was all he needed to know.

Squall settled his hands on the counter on either side of Laguna, impersonal and aloof, and then pulled back slowly, only to thrust back even slower. The skin here was sensitive and it felt good when the cock shuddered into the base of his cock and his balls, but he knew he couldn't come from this. Worse, he knew this wasn't about him. For the first time ever, Squall was playing the inconsiderate lover. Laguna squirmed and felt a tingle run up his spine.

Squall's hip snapped back once more and the skin of Laguna's thighs caressed him, tightened around him, welcomed him. He repeated the motion at a steady pace ten more times before speeding up. Laguna listened and knew exactly when Squall threw his head back, riding out the pleasure.

Laguna squirmed again. He wanted...more. This was...insulting. Squall had wanted sex right then, had wanted release right then.

And that explained the smoldering looks throughout dinner and the hurried way he had eaten, didn't it?

And it all boiled down to Squall not caring if Laguna was enjoying this.

"Please, touch me," Laguna asked. Somewhere along the line he had dropped the sponge. "Not like this," he said and wondered why his voice sounded drugged with satisfaction and lust "Touch me. Fuck me."

"No," Squall said and slowed down his pace just to stretch it out longer for himself.

"Squall," Laguna cried out. That one had been brutal and he had felt the hair around Squall's cock grind into the skin of his ass. "Oh, Hyne."

Laguna moaned, dropped his head and tried to squeeze his thighs together tighter. He meant to beg Squall to lube him up—or not was okay at this point, too—and fuck him properly, but all he said was "Harder" and where the hell had that come from?

Because, yeah, nothing could change the fact that Squall was using him. Which he _shouldn't_ like. At all.

"Fuck, y-no," Laguna cried when a long-fingered hand forced his head down closer to the steaming, dirty, soapy water, and took a fierce hold on his hips, making him easier to manipulate, an easier way for Squall to pleasure himself.

Squall was using him like he'd use a fist to jack off. Taking his own pleasure from Laguna from behind. Treating him like he was just any other body to fuck. He shouldn't be enjoying this.

"Please, no," Laguna said and felt all the blood rush to his head and then crash back down. Surely he wasn't going to come just like this...

Squall _wasn't_ fucking him.

Squall wasn't _going_ to fuck him. Squall was going to fuck himself off in between Laguna's thighs and probably not return the favor with even a handjob. A blowjob was out of the question. And, maybe—just maybe—after he came, he'd push him away and leave him to bring himself off on the kitchen floor. And that idea made Laguna arch his back and practically purr.

"Please," he moaned—and was he asking for what he had imagined? Certainly not. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "I want you to touch me."

"Do you really?" 

He felt cheap and dirty. Just a body.

"No. I...I..." The whimpering sound coming from his lips was no good indication of what he wanted. It sounded pleased and aroused. He trailed a wet, sudsy hand to his lips, warm water dripping down his sweating chest, and sucked on his own finger to block the noise. He was aware of the suds and water streaming from his hand and wrist gliding and gathering all over his neck and nipples and belly and even they made him hot. He considered using that same hand to make this better. Soapy and hungry for flesh, his hand slid down...

"Don't touch yourself."

"Ahhh!" he gasped and then groaned, a noise that sounded like the ones he sometimes made when Squall slid inside him smoothly in one stroke and pushed hard against his prostate. Those noises he made when he was ready to black out from pleasure. It was as if Squall had done something other than deny him what he thought he wanted. At this point, he was beginning to wonder if Squall was the only one in the room who knew what Laguna wanted.

"Let me..." he pleaded.

"I said no. Stay like you are." And that tone was chilling, unyielding.

"Hyne!" His hand fell away and he struggled to lift it back to the ledge of the sink. That voice...

He pushed his hips back a little further, barely clinging to the sink at all anymore and the slap, slap, slap of his own balls against his empty body was counterpoint to the slick sound of Squall moving in and out.

Just a glorified fist.

And Squall _knew_ that he liked it. The bastard _knew_.

"Please!"

"Please, what?"

"Please...Please, I-I can't say it, but...you know..."

Squall stopped moving entirely.

"No! Please," Laguna gasped, dismayed. He tried to move his hips back to finish the motion, the make Squall feel this, but the hands at his hips were brutal. He was stuck like this, Squall in control.

"Then tell me what you want."

"Please don't make me say it."

Squall fisted his hand into Laguna's hair, too hard, pulling too tight. "Tell me," he said and accented the command with a beautiful, slow slide out and back in. Laguna felt his eyes roll back in his head.

"Please, tou—" he tried and then gave up. The truth hurts sometimes. But, he decided, if it gets you what you want, go with the pain.

"Please use me," he begged. "I want you to...use me."

Squall moved again, snapping his hips forward and then back. "Like this?" 

"Harder." He swallowed and felt more words—like a river of dirty secrets flooding the air—coming out before he knew how to stop them. "I want you to not care if I want it or if I like it. Or even if it _hurts._ I want you to force me down onto a table and use me how you want to...Fuck me till you come and then watch me bring myself off screaming your name...I want...Hyne...ah, ah..."

He ran out of words and breath because Squall was moving again.

"More?" he asked.

"Yes," Laguna panted. "Fucking...hell...make it rough."

"Gladly," Squall said and rode out his own release in a high-paced spurt, ratcheting in and out and gripping Laguna's hips cruelly. His fingers were digging in and Laguna was writhing under the assault, twisting his body as if the cock were inside him instead. He felt like he'd die of disappointment if Squall touched him sweetly at all.

And this was going to leave bruises and that was good because Laguna was just a body, a tool. There was no pleasure to be had here for him. This was all about Squall, who was sure not fucking his body, but seemed to be having a pretty good time fucking with his head.

"Squall!" Laguna cried when he felt the hot, wet, thick, powerful twitching of the cock enveloped in his thighs. He almost collapsed when his own release ripped through him like a dam bursting.

Squall caught him and they both tumbled to the floor.

"Hyne, Hyne..." Laguna was chanting.

"Shhhh," Squall soothed him and stroked his damp hair. "I've got you. Shhh..."

Laguna blinked and settled more firmly against Squall's chest, staring at the ceiling. He felt more like himself five minutes later. Enough to try to speak, anyway.

"Squall," he began, voice hoarse from screaming like he hadn't in a long time. Sex with Squall was always good, but this had been a little scary. "How did you...why did you...fuck. I haven't come that hard in my life. And those things that I said. I'm sick, aren't I?"

"I like you sick," Squall admitted. He stroked his hands along the skin on the inside of Laguna's legs, gathering up the drying semen there as proof of how much he liked this particular kink. "And it wasn't hard to figure out. You'd probably let me handcuff you to the bed and beat you for a week if you thought it would get me off."

Laguna shuddered, but not with disgust and he couldn't stop the excited roll of his hips. And this time, Squall was surprised. "I was just joking, you know."

"Sure. But...just in case, how much do handcuffs cost?" 

end

I like the idea that Laguna curses during sex and when he drinks. I don't know why. :)


	2. Broken Beds

Title: Broken Beds

Author: Renaissance Makoto

Pairing: Laguna/Squall

Summary: Jealous sex leads to furniture shopping. Or maybe just to more jealous sex.

Warnings: NC-17 SMUT! Seriously: strong language and graphic smut. NOT BETA READ. Come on, this is me we're talking about here: Have I _ever _had a beta?

Author's Note: This is part of the Domestic storyline in which Laguna and Squall live together, have an established relationship, and have kinky sex all around the house. Yep, I'm serious. That's the entire point of this storyline. Anything that doesn't make sense is because it's carryover from the prequel that's rotting on my hard drive. Cheers!

* * *

They stared down at it together now that it was Saturday afternoon and they'd slept the entire morning away. Laguna had a feeling that there would be ugly marks when they finally wrestled the thing out the door. They'd have to hide them with carpet or just have a new floor installed. He shrugged mentally: Good thing they were rich.

And, well, now that they were fully awake and sore and covered in bruises and no longer able to go out into public without the entire world thinking, "Well, you two have been shagging like rabbits," they had nothing but time to stare down at it, actually.

"We broke it," Laguna said intelligently. Squall nodded and rested his chin in his fingers.

"Yeah," he said, finally. If that had been the conclusion of his long think, Laguna realized they were in trouble.

Stained with sweat and lube and come, the cheerful green sheets greeted their shocked expressions as if to say, "Don't bother washing us. Just burn us in effigy to the gods of sex."

And Laguna seriously considered it because maybe in gratitude the gods would relieve him of some of the unwanted side effects of sex of the kind they'd had.

Laguna _ached_.

Squall had never fucked him that hard before and that was saying something.

He thought back to the night before, screaming out a twisted warbling variation of Squall's name just as the poor abused bed coughed out its last and collapsed beneath them, shoving Squall's hard, pulsing cock in harder with the jolt of it all and making Laguna sob, scream again, beg for more.

They'd both gone still, Squall's cock still twitching inside him and come dripping out of him slowly and they'd listened to the night. After the noise of Laguna screaming with each thrust and Squall grunting as he fucked himself off inside Laguna's sore hole and the bed bloody crashing to the floor, the night sounded quiet. Too quiet and Laguna wondered if this was why their neighbors had moved away. He was loud sometimes.

Okay, all the time.

Laguna had squirmed moaned at the slick feeling of Squall sliding in bareback on his own come and had bit his lip.

"Come on, finish this. Don't stop. Don't ever stop fucking me." And he'd sounded like a complete whore, like a tight young twink half his age and he hadn't cared. He'd wanted it like a tight young twink, so it was all okay. Actually, he _always_ wanted it like a tight young twink and this line of thought was really bad for his ego.

And Squall had still been hard inside him, tireless. So he'd given Laguna what he'd begged for and just kept fucking him on the broken bed, whispering dirty things into his ear.

_"You fucking love my cock, say it."_

_And it was true, so Laguna said it._

_Again and again and again._

_"I love it, fuck me, god, yes!"_

And he had no idea what had gotten into Squall; why he'd dug his fingers into Laguna's hair _hard_ and used his body long and filthy, marking everywhere across his skin. Laguna was a mess of purple bruises and bite marks all along his neck. He had a book signing in two days and he'd have to wear _makeup_ so, yes, twink status complete. As a joking suggestion for the jacket to one of his books, his editor had suggested calling him hot, golden and full of cream so, yeah, a twink all the way.

Ah, his editor. Right.

That was probably it.

Now that he thought about it, Laguna had a suspicion that Squall's violent, thoroughly rough and nasty, and utterly enjoyable fuck-fest last night had come from his walking in on Laguna talking to Kiros, heads bowed close together, conversation low and serious. And there was a pattern to this if he really cast his memory back: That surprise fuck he'd gotten on the carpet at four in the afternoon two weeks ago had been after he'd had lunch with Kiros. He wasn't willing to dismiss the events as unrelated.

And Laguna was aware in an abstract way that Squall and his editor didn't get along. Kiros had the honor of being Laguna's oldest friend. They'd served in the war together, been through a million nasty situations together. They hugged each other.

In perfectly manly ways, of course.

Squall was his son and his lover and sometimes Laguna wondered if Kiros didn't know that they fucked wildly whenever possible. Maybe he'd known for years and only tolerated it because he'd tolerate _anything_ from Laguna, no questions asked.

And maybe he knew in a way that he'd never admit to himself that Kiros loved him. It was a conflicted love, old and a little tangled up with friendship and obligation and something like desire through a stained glass, but it was still there. Laguna ignored it, focused on the good old days and the comfortable present and just...coasted. How long he thought he could keep it up, he didn't know, but it had worked pretty well so far. After all, he'd been fucking Squall for over five years and deliberately _not_ fucking Kiros for well over twenty.

Only, Squall was jealous.

In all likelihood, Squall had convinced himself that Laguna and Kiros were sleeping together behind his back, patiently waiting for him to go into work or on a trip so that they could be alone together. Squall was fighting back the only way he knew how: Laying claim to Laguna in obvious, deliciously painful ways. Last night had been wild and good and just so damn _wrong_ that Laguna could feel all the emotion behind it in every tweaking pain—was aware of it now like it lingered in the air around them like a ghost, a phantom.

Squall had done things with his tongue that Laguna was sure were illegal. Squall's tongue, maybe more than the lube and the fingers, had opened Laguna open for all that cock he'd been fed. His body had eaten it up, taken it so deep he thought he might choke on the dick in his ass.

Laguna shifted and felt every thrust inside him from last night like a tattoo against his skin. Squall had been marking territory like a dog. Maybe he'd been reading his day planner and knew Laguna had to meet with Kiros _again_ today and had made the bite marks and bruises as visible as they were as a way of saying without words "Mine. Back off."

Maybe.

But Squall was a complicated man and one who played things close to the vest at all times. Laguna would never know his motivations entirely and would never dare ask.

He thought, sometimes, to liberate Squall from the delusion that he and Kiros were an item. It was cruel to keep him in the dark. Then again, sometimes he played to it because it was fun to see Squall get jealous over him; fun to watch him turn possessive and cave-man. And the sex when Squall was jealous…it was worth it.

So, yes, sometimes he flirted with Kiros. Touched him when he knew Squall was watching. Laughed too low and loud at his jokes. Leaned in a little too close. It was so petty, but Laguna found he was addicted to the flint in Squall's eyes, the tightening of the muscles in his jaw. Squall when he was jealous radiated danger and it made Laguna's cock turn hard so fast it was like hitting an on button. It made him want to beg, to beg like a bloody tart for Squall to push him up against a wall and take him fast and dirty.

"We could go shopping," Laguna suggested after a moment. "You don't go in for another four hours."

"You want to go buy a new bed?" Squall asked, eyebrow quirked. He had scratches running down the entire length of his back from Laguna's blunt nails and teeth marks on his shoulders.

Laguna wished the world could see them.

"This one didn't make it," Laguna said huskily. "We need something...sturdier."

Squall crossed his arms. "Sturdier?"

"Well, yeah," Laguna said, throwing his arms into the air. "Maybe something wood this time. Especially if you plan a repeat of last night. Ever."

He could still feel the headboard slick beneath his fingers with his sweat, grasping at it convulsively; remember every shudder at the growl against his neck. Remembered trying to retreat from the brutal invasion into his body even as his mouth begged for the pleasure it knew was coming.

_"Hold still. Don't move. Don't you dare fucking move. Take it. Take it all. Come on, ride my cock."_

"_Hnng, Squall. It's too much. Slower. Please…hnnn!"_

"_No. Fucking take it."_

And he had, all of it and keened for more.

"_Does it still hurt?" Squall asked in a low hiss against his ear._

"_Nnnng. No. God, you feel good. You know you feel so good to me."_

"Is there a problem?" Squall asked flatly, snapping Laguna away from his thoughts.

"I look like I've been mugged," Laguna said, holding out one bruise-covered arm as evidence. There were certainly more where those came from. "So maybe I should be the one asking _you_: Is there a problem?"

Squall's jaw flexed. His posture was so defensive Laguna imagined that this is what he looked like when he was interrogated. Maybe this was how he'd looked when they'd captured him over there in that bloody, stupid, useless war. He'd never given in or given up and the world had called him a hero for it. He'd been sent home scarred and battered but never broken.

Now he looked immovable, unflappable.

"If you don't want me touching you," Squall began but stopped abruptly when Laguna let out a surprised laugh.

"Squall, that's not what this is about. You can't seriously believe I don't like sex with you: We both know I do. I just want to know what you were going for last night. I mean, I look like I've been very well fucked. If that was your ultimate goal, congratulations!"

When he was angry, his words ran together and his vowels did strange things. He knew it became obvious at times like this that he wasn't from here, but controlling it was hard when his mind was twisted up with other things. It was probably another sore spot with Squall that Kiros and Laguna easily slipped back to their native way of speaking when they got together, like a shared bond between them no one else could ever understand.

Squall glared at him and he glared right back.

And Laguna's anger even surprised him. He suspected it was partly self-loathing. He was furious with himself for _not_ being angry at all with Squall about the rough treatment. Not in any real way. They both knew he liked it that way.

"_Harder! Please! Harder, harder!"_

Still, he should have been at least irritated with Squall over his jealousy. He wasn't and that was probably the root of it all: He wasn't capable of staying mad at Squall. Never had been, actually.

"I just want to know what you were thinking. Is this because of Kiros?"

Squall's eyes hardened and his nostrils flared. Too low and deadly he said, "I fucked you like that because you like it."

Laguna took a calming breath. "Yes, okay, we have rough sex quite a lot, but last night was more than that. You were…rougher than usual."

Squall's eyes suddenly went dark and Laguna didn't have time to blink, more or less move. The hand around his neck was unforgiving, crushing.

"You liked it," Squall growled. "Admit it."

Around the constriction in his throat, Laguna gasped. "Squall," he tried.

"Admit it," Squall demanded, all flint.

"Yeah. Yes. Okay. You know I did. You know how I like it."

"I know now you like it," Squall agreed. "I'm the _only_ one who can give it to you."

Unspoken were the words, "Not Kiros, not anybody else."

The mattress was as soft as ever underneath his back as he was forced down onto it, but decidedly lower with the legs snapped and useless. He was pushed against it as his legs kicked apart. They were bent loosely at the knee and slipping under so that he was almost kneeling on the ground. His back was bowed too far, almost painfully and he stared up wide-eyed at Squall's angry face.

No, not angry.

Laguna licked his lips, slowly. Then again. "Say it," Squall said and his fingers flexed against Laguna's neck.

Laguna could barely speak at all, throat dry with lust and something like fear.

"Squall," he croaked, but Squall only raised his voice. "Say it!"

Laguna gasped and managed to find the strength to stammer, "Nobody else can fuck me like you do. Nobody else." And maybe he did it deliberately, fighting back the only way he knew how: With words.

Yes, with a few simple words he had implied that he compared Squall to all the other men who came and went and fucked him because he was one hell of a lay and gagging for it when his young lover was out of town.

Yes, all those imaginary men he wasn't fucking because he was like a heroin addict and Squall's dick was the best high in town.

Laguna smirked internally: He was so going to hell for letting Squall's mind go down the wrong garden path, but first, he was going to get another round of filthy sex pushed to perfection by the sting of jealousy.

Above him, Squall's face was an amusing collage of anger and lust and violent intent towards anyone who had touched Laguna and to Laguna himself for letting any other cock inside him when obviously he was only supposed to ride one cock and suck one cock for the rest of his life.

Laguna smiled weakly and readied himself for a new round of bruises.

He reached up and cupped Squall's cheek, tender and soft—a hilarious gesture in the midst of all this potential rage. Squall looked fit to kill something and Laguna decided not to invite Kiros over for a while, for the man's own safety.

"Come on, Squall," he said bemusedly. "Give it to me on this piece of shit broken down bed. Give it to me one more time before we put her out to the curb. I want one last good memory of the old girl."

Squall's face showed surprise, but his hand finally loosened and Laguna took a gasping breath of air, grateful. Squall's knee came up and pushed into the bed beside Laguna as he leaned over, movements powerful and deliberate like a jungle cat.

The kiss was restrained, explosives imminent but held at bay, waiting. Laguna could feel already that this was going to be good.

Against his lips, Squall asked: "You're still sore?"

"Yeah. But it's okay," Laguna breathed. He slithered a hand down, got his pants undone and wiggled them down his ass and then off. Then he make quick work of Squall's fly before pulling him close, legs going around his waist gracefully until their cocks brushed together and Laguna had to gasp.

"I don't want to hurt you," Squall said, nipping along Laguna's already battered neck.

"Liar," Laguna said and ignored the way Squall tensed beneath his hands.

"Laguna—" Squall tried, but again he was interrupted.

"Don't worry," Laguna whispered, twisting a little to brush their bodies together again, "you already broke the bed, so you can't break it again. Make it as hard as you want. You know I can take it."

"Like this?" Squall whispered. He licked his fingers in an obscene way and then brought them down between their bodies, pushed in. It wasn't enough, especially after last night and this was going to hurt. But Squall was asking if Laguna wanted it some other way, maybe wanted him to go get lube or to take him from behind for comfort. If maybe Laguna just wanted to rub himself off against Squall and then suck Squall dry. He was saying that he'd do it the way Laguna wanted but it was a lie.

_Squall_ wanted it like this and he made that clear as his fingers scissored inside Laguna then stabbed in a few times. Then a third finger was shoved in, not gently, not smoothly.

"Gnn," Laguna said and arched at the pain which wasn't really bad. Never bad with Squall. "Just like that," he answered. "Don't stop." Because he wanted what Squall wanted at the end of the day. At the end of every day, actually.

And if Squall wanted to fuck him even _more_ raw with only spit for lube so that the friction set his ass on fire and made his hole sore for days and days…

Then yes, he was a horny little twink after all, begging for cock like the slut he was.

"Fuck me," he chanted. "God, Squall, please!"

"So hot," Squall said, twisting his fingers once, twice. "I broke the bed last night, but can I break you?" he demanded. His fingers slowly slid out then, trailed around his red, irritated hole like a loving caress before a beating and Laguna braced for what came next. It was never easy to take all of Squall. He filled him up, made him weep with the stretch of it, the burning invasion and friction and tirelessness.

God he loved it. He was a whore for Squall every time. His hole was hungry for it, fluttering with the loss of those fingers, so fucking sore from last night and about to get worse.

He screamed and screamed and cried and tried to push Squall away and pull him closer at the same time as Squall just ground himself in thick and hot and leaking come, bareback, no lube, fucking, fucking, jerking his hips.

And it was endless; how long was he? How thick and solid with blood and need?

Laguna's hands scrabbled on Squall's hips as his own squirmed away, then dove back, taking all he could until—

"God, fuck, Squall you're—" Laguna tried to say but it all came out a mess. He wanted to convey the idea that no one he'd ever fucked had been this big and this demanding and had fit inside him like he'd always been made to be there—too much and just enough and burning through him like embers.

Squall sac finally came to rest against Laguna's ass and their breath was too loud in the bright room and Laguna had a moment of folly thinking that it was barely lunchtime and he was already getting his ass turned out.

He'd never walk again.

He laughed, but not with humor, shifted to feel that cock hard inside him. "You can't break me, Squall," he said. "You can try, but you'll never succeed."

Squall growled then pulled out, fucked his way back in hard and too fast. Laguna cursed, twisted, called out Squall's name.

_Squall's_ name.

And Squall smiled against his neck, predatory, knowing. "You're so tight," he said. "You feel this good every time. This is what you're body's for, to take my cock whenever I want."

Laguna clutched at his shoulders through his shirt, held on because he felt like he was about to rattle apart.

"Squall, god, please!"

"You're mine," Squall said and licked at the salty skin behind his ear, smelled Laguna's long hair where it tumbled out of his ponytail.

"And I broke you a long time ago."

With each thrust, the broken bed creaked and groaned and Laguna Squeezed his eyes together and knew that _this_ is what it felt like to be loved by Squall.

And maybe, just maybe, he really was broken. As broken as the bed and as broken as Squall never would be.

* * *

Author's Ramblings:

Okay, so, someone once complained that Laguna always bottoms in my fics. To this I would like to say, "Urkljalskdjfajfs;?"

Because, well, yeah, it's true. I think I tried to write Laguna as a top and never finished it. I'll try again one day. Until then, stay tuned for more pointless, plotless sex with Squall on top! Woot!


	3. Couches, Mirrors, and a Bed at Last

Title: Couches, Mirrors, and a Bed at Last (A "Domestic" story)  
Fandom: FF8  
Pairing: Squall/Laguna  
Author: Ren makoto (Mostly Harmless III or harmless_one depending on what site you visit!)  
Word count: A little over 3000.  
Warnings: INCEST, graphic descriptions of sex, AU, PWP, OOC, Laguna acting like a complete cockwhore, wtf-ness. NOT BETA READ. I don't even have a beta. If the typos bother you, remember that you're reading incestuous, pwp FANFICTION. Low expectations make the world a nice place to live.  
Summary: In the Domestic storyline, Laguna and Squall have been together for about 5 years. They have sex on every piece of furniture in the house. Looking harder for a storyline or plot will give you NOTHING.

* * *

Couches, Mirrors, and a Bed at Last

* * *

Laguna stormed through the door an hour earlier than Squall was expecting.

He jerked his tie loose and threw it over the back of the sofa then undid the first three buttons. Next he was rolling up his sleeves. He never stopped moving.

"Squall," he proclaimed, "I want to fuck."

Squall came around the corner sputtering. "Excuse me?" he said looking a little flummoxed.

The look was funny enough for Laguna to laugh.

"Just as I said," he declared, loudly. "I've had a fantastic day! My editor loves my new manuscript, already has a cover artist in mind, says it looks clean except for a few typos here and there, and wants to move forward to the next step."

Here he stopped long enough to cross his arms and look smug. "I've never had a book go through the pipeline this quickly. And so, in honor of this singularly spectacular milestone in my life, I declare that I'm going to cook dinner, we're going to eat it together, and then I want you to fuck me raw."

Squall crossed his arms and, though he was shorter than Laguna, seemed to be looking down at him.

"You want to fuck?"

"Mmmm."

"So why wait until after dinner?" Squall asked in a black velvet voice.

Now it was Laguna's turn to look flummoxed and his eyes widened in surprise. "You can't be serious," he said.

Squall waited two heartbeats then strode across the room. Laguna yelped when he found himself pinned to the back of the couch, Squall's hips flush with his ass.

"Does this feel serious?"

He was already hardening and the heat of that cock Laguna loved so much was settling nicely between his ass cheeks.

"Shit," Laguna hissed between his teeth. "Yeah, okay, screw dinner. Let's celebrate with your dick in me."

He pushed himself up long enough to fumble with his zipper. Squall tried to help and between the two of them—horny bastards both, Laguna decided—they ultimately got his trousers down. Laguna slowly, almost teasingly—and who was he teasing, himself, or Squall?—lowered his body back down, pressing his chest hard into the overstuffed back of the couch he'd been thinking of replacing.

It was tan, and kind of dull now that he thought about it.

But maybe now it had sentimental value because they'd never fucked here before.

The motion of his body sinking to the back of the couch—his budded nipples straining through the fabric of his shirt to rub against the soft fabric of the upholstery—it pushed his bare ass and thighs flush with Squall's hips.

He rubbed once, slowly, then twice, like a stripper against a pole.

"Get naked," Laguna said a little more harshly than he'd intended. His son took it in stride and stripped. Then that hot, smooth, leaking cock was in Squall's hand and he was moving it, up and down the seam of his ass, painting the skin with pre-come.

"Mmfffm," Laguna said, a stifled noise that came out half gasp half moan. "Lube," he said.

"Shit." Squall rarely cursed, but this time he sounded truly and sincerely angry enough to do it more than once. He rolled his lean body down so that he was pressed from shoulder to knee against Laguna's softly trembling body.

"Don't move," he commanded. "Stay right here." To punctuate the seriousness of his words, he thrust his hips just once, forcing Laguna's cock into the back of the couch and jerking a cry from his lips.

"Do I make myself clear?"

And it was times like this that Laguna remembered that his son was military, just like he'd been. Only, Squall had reached a rank that Laguna had never had a chance to reach. He was a commander to the marrow of his bone, gave orders like he breathed.

Now, Laguna could feel the force behind those words, the certainty of immediate consequence should he choose to disobey.

"I'm going to go, get lube, come back and fuck you against this couch."

Laguna's entire body reacted to the sound of those words—the word 'fuck' for fuck's sake—coming out of his son's mouth. It was like explosives went off. He was sweating with the heat of his own lust, the nearness of Squall's body. Sweat under his arms and between his thighs, sweat on his chest, soaking into the couch and now they really were going to have to replace the damn thing.

"If you move, there will be hell to pay." He thrust again and Laguna's eyes rolled back in his head.

With that, Squall stood, whirled away and Laguna was trembling, his legs straining to stay as they were, spread slightly to accommodate Squall, bent just a little so that he could rest his chest against the couch. And it wasn't exactly comfortable, but god he wanted Squall to keep his word and fuck him hard.

He wanted it the way Squall knew how to give it to him: rough, just a little dirty, and so good it hurt, so painful it was good.

He bit his lip just imagining how this was going to be. Spontaneous sex like this was always the best with Squall and it had been all he could think about all the way home from his editor's office: celebrating with a lot of filthy sex all over the house. He'd been gagging for it and now he was about to get it, he could hardly wait.

There was the squeak of a floorboard and then Squall was behind him again.

Then there were fingers at his entrance and fingers digging into his hair, jerking his head up. It was painful enough and hard enough that Laguna gasped and lifted his head.

Then he gasped again as what he saw before his eyes became clearer.

"Fuck," he said. He hadn't noticed before: the mirror.

It was right before them, clean and clear, big enough so that the entire tableau was like a painting: Squall strong and wet with sweat behind him, his cock visible—

And Squall's eyes on his in the mirror, watching him watch them. A little shifting and that beautiful, purpling cock of his was resting against the small of Laguna's back, cradled just a bit between the cheeks of his ass, like a promise of what was to come. He moved again, that cock sliding free and Laguna missed its heavy weight, but knew what he really wanted.

Then the fingers at his ass slid in, cold and slick with lube, and Laguna winced, but then pushed back. It was a stabbing feeling and hissed through the shock. His expression in the mirror caught his attention: one half pleasure, half pain.

He watched how his body rocked back to take more of those fingers then let his eyes drift over the straining lines of Squall's body, muscles of his arm tensing as he jabbed his slick fingers in and out.

He took his fingers from Laguna's hair long enough to slather more lube onto his hand, but once an additional finger—_three_, Laguna thought, _he's fucking you with three fingers and it's never enough to prepare for the feel of Squall's cock_, _so much thicker and longer_—was working in tandem with the others, he just placed his free hand on the small of Laguna's back, holding him down.

Laguna made a frustrated noise and used one hand to flail around behind him. He got a hold of Squall's hand and tugged it, maneuvered it, and then, wrapping his fingers around Squall's, he placed that hand right back in his hair.

Their eyes caught in the mirror again and Laguna swallowed, couldn't look away from that hot, knowing stare.

Then he squeezed his hand to make Squall's close, tight, tighter on the strands of his hair.

"Hard, like before," he rasped out, lust and arousal making his voice like a stranger's.

Squall twisted his hand inside Laguna just as he made a fist and tugged. Laguna's head jerked back. He could close his eyes to look away from the mirror, but he couldn't turn away or hide.

And so, eyes glued to the mirror, he watched as Squall fucked him with just his fingers.

It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Or so he thought.

When the fingers disappeared and the head of Squall's cock was resting against his hole, Laguna's breath rushed out of him. "Inside me, please," Laguna begged. "I want your cock…"

"Yes." Squall's face was beautiful and tense, restraining some powerful emotion, some twisted thought. He shifted forward. "Yes."

Then Squall slid home, stuffing his father's body full.

"Oh, god!" Laguna cried. "Oh, god," he panted then bit his lip. "Mmm.. you're…God, Squall, you're…nnngg!"

Hot tears went down his face and his cock was painfully hard. Squall wasn't even seated yet and it was like this every time. Squall was bigger than any man he'd ever fucked and he felt it acutely, like he was ripping apart, separating messily into two pieces starting at that thrumming place where Squall was jammed so deep inside him.

And then Squall went deeper, all the way, his pelvis flush with Laguna's ass.

"Laguna," Squall said in a rush of air. Laguna's nails dug into the couch and he sobbed weakly.

"Move," Laguna said. "I want it."

Then it was a chant of "Ah, ahh, nnng, god, Squall, ah, ahhhh! It hurts! Ahhhh!" as Squall fucked him as hard as he knew Laguna could take.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Laguna moaned and felt a single, hot bead of sweat drip down his back and then down his crack to join the moisture between his ass cheeks.

"Do you want it like this?" Squall hissed.

"Never stop," Laguna whispered back. "Never stop, nngg... Squall! I need you! Fuck me, fuck me! Ah, nnng!"

Squall's fingers twisted in his hair harder and harder as guttural, half-formed exclamations broke from his mouth.

Squall's free hand slithered down Laguna's side and flanks and then a loud smack sounded. Laguna gasped and then snapped his mouth closed, shocked by the look on his own face.

He'd liked it.

"Again," he said and bent his neck, pulling against the hand in his hair just to feel Squall tug harder to jerk his eyes back up. They stared lust at each other in the mirror and Laguna couldn't keep track of everything he was feeling. Squall was rigid and smooth and hot inside him and he was pretty sure strands of his hair were coming loose in his grasp and his own cock was slipping and sliding against the upholstery, painting it in come and they were probably going to have to toss a decorative throw over it to hide the stain from guests.

And then Squall slapped his ass again and even the semblance of coherent thought slipped out through his ears.

It was about then that he realized he was babbling.

"God, Squall, yes! Harder! Give it to me! Yes, fuck, god you feel so good. Fuck me, fuck me! Fuck!"

And Squall

_Fucked _him.

And growled deep in his throat with each slam of his cock deep into Laguna, pushing hard against that pleasurable gland inside him. The friction of the couch against Laguna's cock wasn't quite enough, so he twisted his arm to reach between his own legs. Stared through lust-fogged eyes at himself in the mirror, at the dangerous lines of Squall's face.

He jacked himself in time to the rhythmic pulsing of the rod inside him. His cock drooled come over his trembling fingers. And he stared into Squall's eyes and knew he was owned entirely by this man—his son, his lover, his _everything_.

He could almost hear the thoughts in Squall's head, the primitive, possessive thoughts that kept him pistoning like a machine inside Laguna, his hips snap, snap, snapping so fast and tireless.

"I love how you fuck me," Laguna gasped.

Squall's eyes sparked. Then he pressed himself hard to Laguna's back and made his thrusts shallow and brutal. "I love…fucking you."

That was it. Laguna came on a scream—loud and thankful to be released from that tension-filled need. He felt Squall whip out of him despite the clenching of Laguna's inner muscles down on his shaft, felt him lay that hot cock against his spine, push once, twice, and then spend hot and sticky all along Laguna's back. He felt it splash, splatter, slip, and dribble into the crack of his ass, into the dip at the center of his back. Some of it hit his neck. Slid down to his chin, following a trail of sweat.

It came close enough to his chin that he thought about _taste._

His body was shaking so hard he felt like he might rattle apart and his mind was a hot, blank thing.

He could barely move, but he needed…

_More._

Another twist of his shoulders brought his hand to the come on his back and he gathered it up with his fingers and then desperately brought it to his mouth, sucked, licked, and then groaned.

His eyelids fluttered opened and he watched Squall watching him lick his semen off obscenely. He glistened with sweat and a few splatters of his own come clung to his taut stomach. He was gorgeous.

The look in Squall's eyes said he liked watching Laguna lick himself clean, so he gathered up more of the white shine off his back and made a show of it, stabbing his fingers into his mouth, running his tongue between his fingers, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked, sucked, sucked Squall's spunk.

"You taste so good…"

Squall flipped him over suddenly and the couch hurt a little like this, pushing too hard into his back, but he didn't care because the triangle of his legs made a nice place for Squall to settle, his softening, come-wet cock settling nicely against Laguna's. He missed the view of them in the mirror, but this one was even better.

"Congratulations on your book," Squall said and rocked just once. Laguna squirmed a little, felt the squelch of lube slide out of him a bit and smiled up at Squall.

"Thank you. That was amazing. Only…I thought you'd come inside me," he said simply.

Squall's hips jerked. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and then looked back down at Laguna. "You like that?"

"Mmm. I like your come inside me," Laguna answered. He lifted his hands and ran them up and down the sweat on Squall's muscled chest. "I like how you taste, but…I need more than that. I feel empty inside."

Squall jerked him up then and instinctively Laguna went with it, wrapping his legs around his son's hips and draping his arms over his back.

"Then let me fix that," Squall said and easily moved to the steps. "If you're not too sore."

"No…I like it," Laguna said unnecessarily. The both knew how he liked the burn of it, the stretch and pain that gratefully and helplessly surrendered to pleasure like a well-paid whore.

Laguna could feel Squall's erection returning, a gentle, blunt pressure on his thigh. Laguna licked at his neck and held on tighter as Squall mounted the steps. He was so strong, military training meaning this was easy for him to do. Balanced, gracefully, even after wild sex against a couch.

Upstairs, Squall lowered him to the bed, pushed his legs wide open and rolled down against his hole where it opened and closed hungrily. It liked being filled; the ring of muscle liked being stretched and Laguna decided to help it out, reached down and spread it open with his fingers. They were like a runway, guiding Squall home.

"I liked watching you in the mirror," Squall said and rested the tip of his thick erection against Laguna's knuckles. He rubbed up and down once, twice, then pushed forward, watching the reddened ring expand as it tried to take him once again.

"You bite your lip. You lick them. Your cheeks get all red. You looked…out of control"

Laguna bit his lip at the memory and nodded. "I was. I liked…when you…"

"You liked being spanked?"

Laguna's hole fluttered against the very tip of Squall's cock where it was pushing, a wide, blunt invader.

"Yes," he moaned. "It was perfect. You were perfect. We should do that again."

"Oh, believe me: we will," Squall added and eased in. They shifted together, Laguna's fingers popping free, shining and slick, and Squall's cock moving in a little deeper and then finally all the way so that his balls rolled hotly against Laguna's ass.

Laguna's legs came up, circled around Squall's back, his heels pressing into his ass. He stretched his arms up high above his head, gripped the headboard.

"Make me come like this," he demanded. "Fuck me. Fill me up."

Laguna was bossy today, Squall realized and smirked.

He actually liked it.

He told his father so with the way he fucked him, with the pace he took. And he smiled to himself twenty-five minutes of steady, brutal fucking later when Laguna's cock spurted copiously without being touched. There was enough come that it was hard to believe it was his second orgasm of the night.

He clamped down on every muscle in his body that told him to follow Laguna over the edge. Instead, he watched Laguna fall apart beneath him, twisting his torso and tossing his head. At last he came back down, flushed lobster red and drenched with sweat and his own come.

Squall smiled wickedly. "Okay?"

"Mmm."

"Hold on…"

"I'm ready. Do it."

Squall was more than happy to oblige, so ready to come.

He angled Laguna's weak and shaking body the way he wanted it, listened to the soundtrack of Laguna's gasping breath, and fucked himself off inside the wet heat of Laguna, the best place his cock had ever been. He was aware of the way Laguna's toes curled, how the tendons in his arms popped, how his throat worked as he gasped soundlessly.

At last Laguna choked out a pleading, "Please, please, _please_! I need it! Give it to me!"

And Squall…he couldn't…stop…he needed to…he had to make Laguna feel it…make him see that he was…

"Mine! You're mine! Take it! Take it all!"

He filled Laguna's welcoming bowels up, ground in ruthlessly as his cock sputtered and kept slamming in, slamming in, until all he could do was arch back and scream, buried to the hilt in heaven.

He vaguely heard Laguna's "God, yes!" through the roaring of blood in his ears.

He tried to be courteous but just collapsed on top of Laguna anyway. When his mind floated back down from wherever it had been, he was aware of Laguna speaking.

"Now that," he said and squirmed to the accompaniment of very wet sounds, "is what I needed."

He laughed and kissed Squall's sweaty head. "Best day EVER," he added. He squirmed again and seemed to delight in being filled up like he was. Laguna's very red entrance started leaking the very minute Squall popped free.

Squall pulled back to watch it. He gathered some of it up with his fingers, knew Laguna was watching with eyes that showed how fucked out he was, pupils blown and the whites gone red from the sting of salty sweat.

"You're a mess," Squall said absently as he rubbed the mix of lube and come and more between his fingers.

"I'm…" Laguna began and licked his lips before continuing. "I'm very…wet," he said and smiled. "Can you imagine…all that come? It'd be so slick. And I'm so stretched out already…You'd slide in so easy. It'll be so wet when you fuck me…"

Squall goggled at him. "Again?" he asked. He sounded shocked, but his cock stirred as if it knew a good idea when it heard one. He knew a few strokes would have him hard again. Squall was young, after all, and Laguna turned him on. Laguna's tight little body made him feel like he could fuck all day, as a matter of fact.

In answer, Laguna flipped onto his back. "Again," he said simply. "I told you: I'm celebrating. Don't make me repeat myself."

And Squall chuckled. Laguna was indeed very bossy today.

He really, really liked it.

~End~

* * *

Aaaannnnnnd…that's the end because I realized that, seriously, how many times can you take it up the ass before you just hurt and nothing will make it feel good? I mean, yes, I write Laguna as a cockslut for Squall, but even I can't manage to make a third time believable at this point. I just imagine he'd hurt.

So, fill in the third time on your own and pretend that it feels really good. Or something.

This one's been on my hard drive for so long I just decided to finish it off and post it. It wasn't getting any better just sitting there so I figure I'd share the badness with the WORLD!

I dodge your thrown tomatoes and rotten fruit! I dodge them! Ha-ha!


	4. Stamina

Title: Stamina

Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII

Pairing: Squall/Laguna

Rating: NC-17

Summary: The trouble was that Laguna wanted Squall right now and Squall was still at work.

Warnings: Smut, incest, pwp, not beta-read. Kink.

Author's note: "Domestic" is a porn story where Laguna and Squall have kinky sex in every chapter. Yay! If you look for more, you'll only find pocket lint.

Stamina

The trouble was that Laguna wanted Squall right now and Squall was still at work. It was a common problem for Laguna who found himself still madly in love and lust with his son even after over five years of—whatever it was they had. He'd fought so long to stay just Squall's father, failed, and now had a beautiful lover he could no longer boss around.

And, yes, his conscious was in terrible conflict most of the time and he dealt with it as best he could. Today was one of those days when his conscious was remarkably quiet. Yes, he was sleeping with his son and it was illegal and he should be ashamed and Squall's mother was probably cursing him from the grave and. Blah, blah, blah.

He really wanted to shag.

So Laguna paced. He tried to write. He made a few meals and picked at them. He contemplated having a wank in the shower but what good would that do when he would still want Squall after?

By the time Squall was pulling his noisy motorcycle up front, Laguna was squirming in front of a bad movie on the television. He raced to the door, had it open and was standing in the door before Squall had even turned off the headlights.

He made an oomph of surprise when Laguna dragged him inside, shut the door, whirled him around to push him against the wall, and plundered his mouth.

"Mmmm…" Laguna moaned against Squall's soft lips. He opened for Squall when Squall's tongue traced along the seam of his lips. Laguna sucked on that tongue, rubbed against it with his own suggestively.

Squall broke the kiss long enough to raise a questioning eyebrow at Laguna. "Something I should know?"

"Come upstairs with me," Laguna begged. "Please. Now."

Squall walked backwards, tugging Laguna along with him by his thin wrists. "What do you want to do?"

"Everything," Laguna admitted. "It's been a rough day waiting for you. I want you."

"Mmm," Squall said, but was silent as he led them up the stairs to the big bedroom they shared. Only when they were in the dim room did he turn to Laguna and say, "Take off your clothing."

It was a blur then, Laguna stripping quickly, climbing onto the bed and reveling to find Squall as nude as he was himself. Then he was reaching for the drawer beside the bed and slicking himself up as quickly as he could. Squall watched him for a moment where he squirmed and twisted on his own fingers. Then he added his own to the tangle inside Laguna. The stretch was too much, perfect, three, four, five fingers moving inside him. Six…

"Nnngg, more," Laguna begged. "Please, I'm ready." He jerked his own fingers free and only hissed a little when Squall's were tugged free too. Then the blunt, leaking head of Squall's erection was pushing against his slicked pucker. He spread his legs, wrapped his arms around his thighs to tug them even wider. "Now. Inside me now," he all but moaned.

The push was amazing, the glide, slide, stretch. And Squall didn't halt once he was seated, just started fucking him in earnest, the piston of his hips driving him in and out in a perfect rhythm. He loved that Squall could fuck him like this, no condom, just skin and silken heat. It felt good and he could tell that Squall was close. He couldn't come yet without jerking himself off, but he had other ideas anyway.

"Come inside me," he said. "I want to feel that…come on, give it to me."

Squall leaned down over him, made his thrusts harder, more relentless. Laguna had a brief thought that the door was unlocked downstairs and he didn't even care. It felt too good being taken like this when he was so horny for it, needed it so bad all day.

Squall's rhythm faltered and Laguna concentrated on where Squall's body joined with his so he could feel the wet splash, the shocking, wonderful filling of his body with Squall's seed. Squall didn't disappoint and Laguna arched into it, squeezed down on the hard length inside him, encouraging Squall to give him every drop.

He rocked into Squall's wild last thrusts, then settled down, quivering with the need to come. "God…so good, Squall, you're perfect."

Squall was kissing along his throat, his chin. "I love your body, I love how you feel," Squall murmured.

"Ditto," Laguna laughed breathlessly. "Here, pull out. I want to do something."

Squall slowly eased out of him and Laguna made a little uncomfortable noise. It was so wet between his legs from lube and come seeping out. He arranged Squall how he wanted him, on his back with his legs wide.

"Yeah," Squall said, "I like this."

"You don't even know what I'm doing yet!" Laguna argued with a smile on his face. He was a sweaty, flushed mess, but Squall was looking up at him like he was precious. He settled between Squall's thighs. Squall's impressive cock was half hard between his legs, slicked with streaks of white from its exertions inside Laguna. It was too tempting to resist, so Laguna reached out and stroked it a few times. Squall thrust gently into his fist.

"I want you again," Squall said. "Do what you want quickly so I can put you on your knees and come inside you again."

Laguna smiled. "Impatient!" he scolded. Then he kissed Squall's hip where the bone protruded deliciously, scooted down the bed a bit and kissed the top of his thigh. Then he kissed just inside his thigh at the lightly furred, pale skin he found there. His next kiss was higher, deeper in.

He pushed Squall's legs wider, encouraged him to hold himself open, and then his tongue dipped into where he needed it to be, tip tickling along the sweet pucker. Squall hissed. When Laguna pushed deeper, let the fat part of his tongue drill into his son's tight body, Squall began twisting beneath him so prettily that he had to hold him still with hands on his narrow hips.

He looked up at him. "Talk to me. Do you like it?"

"Mm…Laguna…ah…" Squall twisted and squirmed on his tongue.

And Laguna knew this drove Squall mad. It probably had to do with it making him feel dirty, wrong, used. It felt like a forbidden act—as forbidden as regularly, enthusiastically fucking your father, Laguna guessed. Squall seemed to like doing bad, bad things. Liked having bad, bad things done to him and his sweet, youthful body. And Laguna liked putting his mouth to Squall like this, but didn't love having it done to him as much. So it all worked out, Laguna decided. They both got what they wanted.

Because Squall loved how Laguna licked him open, sucked on his sweet hole. No sooner had he thought it than Laguna pressed his lips to the forbidden skin and sucked, sucked. He kissed and licked frantically for a second, then slowed down to penetrate Squall with his tongue again. He shifted a bit to get a hand between Squall's legs, pushed two fingers inside him efficiently and held him open that way so his tongue could do more interesting work deeper inside him.

He glanced up to see Squall with one fist in his mouth. He was sweating, trembling in his attempts to hold still and remain quiet. His cock was hard, purpling with need, and leaking come onto his muscled belly.

"Can you come like this?" Laguna asked, then swirled his tongue along that delicious pucker.

"Please," Squall begged. "Please, Laguna…."

Laguna kissed him again, hard and wet at his tight little hole. Then he plundered it with his mouth, thrust hard in and out quickly. His jaw was aching and he was drooling and it was amazing to have Squall fall apart on his tongue like this.

With a shocked cry, Squall spilled his seed again. This time it even landed on Laguna between his legs, splashing hotly on his face and his tongue where it was still fucking Squall mercilessly. Squall arched like a bow, then collapsed back onto the bed.

Laguna wiped at his own face, cleaned himself up as best he could. Licked some of the mess off of his hands.

"Oh my god, Laguna…Laguna…god…" Squall said, barely making sense at all. Laguna gathered up some of the mess on Squall's stomach, smeared it over his own unattended erection, then pushed into Squall without delay. He leaned down low over him as he fucked him, marveled at the feel of heat coming in waves from his son's body.

It had been a revelation that being older meant he didn't come as often as he used to. But orgasms were more intense now, if less frequent. He could get Squall off a few times, hold off his own release, and spend a long, wonderful night listening to the beautiful sounds his son made.

"You're always so tight," Laguna said, fucking into Squall's quivering hole slowly.

"Unn…unnn….'Guna….more…."

Laguna smiled, but kept his pace slow. "How many more times can I make you come, baby?"

"Don't stop," Squall said in a throaty whisper. "More."

Laguna was good at following orders. He kept the rhythm interesting, listened to the sounds Squall made as a guide. He slowed when Squall seemed almost ready to come, made his thrusts shallow and sweet; then brought him back to the precipice with thick, deep thrusts.

Squall was almost babbling. He was sweaty, his tight chest heaving and the muscles of his stomach jumping and rolling with the machine-like movements of their bodies.

Laguna licked at whatever part of Squall he could reach—the dip at his throat where sweat was pooling, the budded nipple at his chest, peaked and hard. Squall's erection was rubbing against him as he moved and he knew the tease was driving Squall to greater heights. He was rocking with each thrust, trying to get more friction on his thick, leaking cock.

Squall's hands roamed over Laguna's back and ass, couldn't find purchase with the slick sweat.

"M-more….Laguna…there…right there…fuck me…ahh…no….yes…there…" he babbled, voice going high and then higher. Through determination alone he clutched the globes of Laguna's ass, squeezed and tugged, held Laguna in place.

"There!" Squall screamed. He arched high and his orgasm was amazing to watch. His muscles fluttered around Laguna's cock, squeezed and massaged him until Laguna couldn't hold back anymore. He thrust hard three times then spilled into Squall, fucked his come deep into him.

His arms couldn't support him anymore and he dropped down hard onto Squall who let out a pained exhale of air, then clung to Laguna. He shivered and jerked still, his body not fully done with the orgasm. Laguna could feel it too, the tremors from his own over-tired muscles counterpoint to those from Squall's. His hips rolled slowly, gently still. He could feel his cock finally going soft inside Squall.

And Squall was kissing his temple, his cheek.

"Thank you. That was…wow."

"Yeah," Laguna said. "Well worth the wait."

Squall decided to show off then and rolled them in a smooth, powerful move. Laguna found himself pinned beneath his son, wrists held down and a knee between his thighs.

"Fancy another go?" Squall purred and then dipped down slowly to lick a stripe up Laguna' sweaty throat.

"God," Laguna laughed breathlessly. "What's it like to have so much stamina?"

Squall used his knee to spread Laguna's legs wider. "Good," he purred. "Very, very good," he answered.

The End


End file.
